


Discipline

by wheel_pen



Series: Daisy [36]
Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Kid Fic, Pre-Vampire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-12
Updated: 2013-05-12
Packaged: 2017-12-11 15:47:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/800417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheel_pen/pseuds/wheel_pen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teenage Damon objects to his little brother being punished by their father. “Transgressions had to be punished, and then afterwards everyone could be friends again.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Discipline

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Daisy, my original character, moved to Mystic Falls about a year ago. There is something special about her. (Although actually she isn't in this story.)
> 
> 2\. This series begins with the first season of the TV show and completely diverges about halfway through the first season. Facts revealed later on the show might not make it into this series.
> 
> 3\. Underage warning: This series may contain human or human-like teenagers, in high school, in sexual situations.
> 
> 4\. The bad words are censored. That’s just how I do things.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this AU. I own nothing and appreciate being able to play in this universe.

            The humiliation of doing something wrong and facing his father’s disappointment was really punishment enough for Stefan. But his father didn’t like to take chances with discipline, so he got the cane out anyway. At eleven Stefan understood that he deserved it, since he _had_ after all been late. Transgressions had to be punished, and then afterwards everyone could be friends again.

            Before Father could use the cane, however, Damon burst into the study and snatched it right out of his hand. “Try hitting someone who can hit back,” Damon snarled, tossing the stick aside.

            “How dare you—“ Father began, shocked and angry.

            “How dare _you_ ,” Damon cut in. “You want him sick in bed for days because he was five minutes late to dinner? Pull your pants up,” he added to his brother. Stefan had forgotten about that in the excitement.

            “ _I_ am in charge of this household—“ Father began, but Damon interrupted him again.

            “Well thank G-d for that,” he said, deeply sarcastic and shockingly profane. Stefan’s eyes widened even further.

            Damon and his father locked gazes and Stefan started to get a little worried. His brother was sixteen now, old enough to be treated as a man, so maybe his opinions mattered more, and he was just trying to protect Stefan, wasn’t he, who hadn’t grown out of being sickly just yet. But Stefan knew disrespect when he heard it, and Father hated disrespect. Plus he suspected Damon had been drinking again; he could smell it on his breath, and Father didn’t approve of that either. Damon hadn’t bothered to show up to dinner at all, late or not.

            A mocking smile curled across Damon’s face. “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he said snidely when his father didn’t respond. He took Stefan’s shoulder and steered him towards the door. “Come on, you can mope in our room about how wicked you are,” he teased in a lighter tone.

            “Damon, I will not have such insolence in my house!” Father suddenly thundered from behind them.

            Damon didn’t even bother to look back. “Well what are you—“ Father’s heavy hand fell on his shoulder and spun him around, and he smacked the teenager across the face, knocking him back into the bookshelves.

            For a moment Damon stared at him, wide-eyed, as if he hadn’t really expected Father to do it. Then his eyes narrowed dangerously and Stefan remembered the fights Damon had had with others his age—he had a vicious streak, and he never, ever gave up, even when outmatched. Fear froze his chest and he watched helplessly as Damon launched himself at their father. Then Stefan suddenly started yelling and threw himself at them both, terrified that someone would get hurt.

            The noise attracted the rest of the household. Midas burst into the study, took stock of the situation, and pried Damon out. “Now, just calm down, Master Damon—“ Midas was a big man but Damon fought his restraint like a wild animal, swearing nastily.

            Parthenia swooped in and pulled Stefan aside to the fire, drying his tears with her apron. “It’s okay, Master Stefan, just take a deep breath now, it’s alright,” she told him soothingly. She hugged him against her tightly, trying to block the sounds and sights of the argument from him.

            “—acting like this in a respectable house, ought to be ashamed, both of you, fighting like hooligans—“ Novella was chiding both Damon and Father. She had been around long enough to be bold in that regard, and Father at least was looking slightly sheepish, trying to straighten his clothes and the furniture that had been knocked over.

            Shame didn’t seem to work on Damon, though. “Master Damon, you gonna get dropped in the horse trough, you don’t settle down,” Midas threatened as the teenager still squirmed in his grasp.

            “Let go of me!” Damon snapped furiously.

            It was too much for Stefan. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be late!” he sobbed, throwing his arms around Parthenia.

            “Oh, hush now, sweetie, it’s alright,” she told him, rubbing his back and rocking him. He knew he was too old to be treated like a baby that way, but it felt nice, and no one else was paying attention to him—he’d never seen his brother and father look angrier and it frightened him.

            “Take him outside,” Father ordered Midas, who clearly didn’t relish the prospect of carting Damon away through the house full of breakables. He was definitely a kicker, as Midas’s shins could attest at this point.

            Damon grabbed the doorframe, trying to prevent his ignoble exit. “You touch him again, I will f-----g kill you,” he snarled at Father. The older man drew back slightly, clearly disturbed by the fury in his son’s eyes.

            “Come _on_ , Master Damon,” Midas insisted, yanking on him. He was caring less and less if the teenager got slightly damaged on the way out.

            “I can _walk_ ,” Damon growled from the hall.

            “Well, walk then,” Midas told him. Their footsteps—Midas’s heavy tread, Damon’s lighter one partly dragged along—faded towards the outer door.

            Father turned to Stefan in the sudden silence. “There now, calm down,” he tried, patting Stefan’s head above Parthenia’s shoulder. Stefan recognized he was trying to be nice, even if it was distant and awkward, and rewarded him with a tentative smile. His father wasn’t much for embraces, though. “Um, why don’t you take Stefan into the kitchen and give him some apple pie?” Father suggested to Parthenia. Perhaps he had forgotten that since Stefan was late, he wasn’t supposed to get any dessert; but Stefan didn’t want to correct him.

            “Yes, sir,” she agreed quickly, standing and leading Stefan out of the study. “Come on, now. A nice warm piece of apple pie will make you feel all better…”


End file.
